Lifeline
by I want
Summary: After the war, Hermione finds herself in the last place she'd ever expected to be, halfway across the world. NON-EPILOGUE COMPLIANT.
1. Part 1

**A/N:** This is a completely random idea that took form whilst I was on a plane during Christmas break and I've only just decided to post it. Not entirely sure if it's a one-shot just yet. I haven't updated my other story yet and it's because of a major lack in ideas and willingness to actually continue. So I'm sorry about that to anyone who's actually following Chain Reaction. Aside from that, hope you like the story and whatnot.

The title is taken from a song by Mat Kearney with the same name and greatly influenced the plot or lack thereof.

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its affiliates belong to J.K Rowling. **

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Muggle transportation had never been the preferred method of travel for witches and wizards. For Hermione Granger however, she would choose it any day over port-keys. She absolutely dreaded the feeling of being sucked in through a tube only to be dumped none too gracefully in a heap on the other side, also known as your destination. But it was more than just the _feeling_; it was the fact that she would ultimately never master the art of port-keying. That in itself was probably her main reason for choosing muggle transportation, though she would never tell anyone.

Choosing to take a plane to Beijing however, was _not_ one of her best ideas and she admitted as much. She was scared of heights for one (why do you think she'd never played Quidditch?) and she was slightly claustrophobic. Those two factors put together created a very nervous and frantic Hermione Granger.

Still, she found herself on an eleven hour flight to Beijing one early, frigid, December morning. The trip itself wasn't spur-of-the-moment, not even the mode of transport. No, everything was perfectly planned down to the very last detail as in true Hermione Granger fashion. Why Beijing you ask? Well, Hermione didn't _really _know whilst planning either,but now, it was a because of her need to escape that drove her to leave. She wanted to escape from the war, the death, the aftermath – everything. It was like a disease that sunk into every crevice and pore, into your very being; until you lost all that you once were and became nothing but a shell.

Sure the war was over, had been for over seven months now. Voldemort was dead, and Harry prevailed but did that really change _anything?_ The wizarding world was rid of one hypocritical purist but there were still so many more. The aurors were on the hunt for remaining Death Eaters and Harry was determined to bring every one of them down. He felt personally responsible for the events that occurred throughout his lifetime and his vendetta against Voldemort's followers was just that much more important to him.

She felt the unfamiliar feeling of guilt slither through her body at the thought of leaving her friends, people who _needed_ her. She was the voice of reason, the one everyone turned to when things were falling apart. Who did she run to when _she_ was bursting at the seams? Her parents were still in Australia, as Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins and she just wasn't ready to remove the memory charms and face them. She had to be strong, less broken. She could never truly be whole again. That was the effect of a lifetime of war. It changed people, chipping away at pieces of you.

She wrung her hands nervously as the plane made a sudden lurch, beginning its journey on the tarmac. She specifically asked for an aisle seat, at least that way she wouldn't see out the window. But where was she seated at this moment? A fucking window seat. And the old geezer next to her in first class refused to switch. Could this trip begin any worse? Was it a sign? She almost laughed but the fact that she was in a filled aircraft would make her seem like a lunatic.

Calmly, she gestured to a flight attendant and told her about her predicament. She found out soon enough that while the flight was completely booked, there was a gentleman with an empty seat that just happened to be an aisle seat. Hermione smiled graciously but felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake her so she ran to the lavatory.

Yanking the door shut, she took a deep breath and splashed some cold water on her face. She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror and grimaced slightly. She looked like she had been through hell and back. And she had. Her face was pale and took on an almost grey undertone, eyes were sunken and she was bordering on stick thin, her clothes hung limply off her hunched shoulders and her hair was frizzed irreparably. She fingered her long, auburn tresses for a moment before twisting it into a thick plait at the base of her neck. The first thing she was going to do once she got to Beijing was cut off her hair. Drastic changes were what she needed. Feeling marginally better, she exited the lavatory to find that the attendant was waiting on her to accompany her to her new seat.

She was led back to the first class cabin, collected her things and moved closer to the front of the aircraft. The attendant stopped at the intended row and Hermione stares at a distinct head of blond hair that was currently looking gout the window. _No, it couldn't. He would never. He's above that. _But as soon as the head turned to look at her, she knew it could only be Draco Malfoy.

She settled into her seat tentatively and still he was staring at her. She could see his face clearly in her periphery and she didn't like his expression in the least. His jaw was clenched tightly and his face was stony and impassive. She wasn't faced with the same bratty boy of her youth. This was someone else. A man, undoubtedly, hardened and made menacing by the war. It wasn't the same boy that would sneer at her and call her names. This new (not so much improved) version of Malfoy didn't even acknowledge her.

She supposed that it had something to do with seeing your mother brutally killed by none other that your own father and knowing you could do nothing to stop it from happening. She'd heard things of course. _Everyone_ had. It was major news in the Daily Prophet for weeks after, cataloguing Lucius Malfoy's capture and subsequent trial and sentencing. She suspected that he'd either already had or was going to have a mental breakdown – like his father. She didn't want to believe it but seeing him now, she was starting to recall all the rumours. He'd abandoned the wizarding world after that, and she'd only seen him a handful of times leading up to the war. He never _actually_ supported Voldemort, but the same could be said for the Order's side as well, though _they'd_ offered him immunity.

He would be at the Headquarters sometimes, being briefed on things concerning the Manor and advances on his father but he would never speak to anyone. She'd always tried to be friendly to him, smile and greet him. Harry and Ron thought her a fool for trying but hey, at least he was still alive. Hermione could see that he was fading, surviving only to serve the needs of others and she hated it. It was the principle of the matter, not the fact that he was Draco Malfoy. He was a human being and deserved to be treated as such. But he was here now, in an airplane to Beijing, sitting next to her. She couldn't help but wonder why. Could it be that he was trying to escape, just like her?

The pilot came over the speakers just then, beginning their journey. The plane picked up speed, engines wheezing to life, seats rattling and Hermione gripped the armrests tightly, eyes squeezed shut as the ground beneath them disappeared. They rose and rose and she could feel her stomach clenching apprehensively.

"Oh Gods, I'm so stupid. Why did I decide to do this?"

But as soon as everything started, their rough beginning was over and the aircraft was gliding safely in the air at ten thousand feet.

She felt something move beneath her hand and she realised, belatedly, that she was gripping Malfoy's hand. Not the armrest. _Just kill me now. _She quickly released his hand and he began flexing it slightly as if to regain some feeling after Hermione's death grip on his hand.

"I'm sorry; I didn't wasn't aware that I was holding onto something other than the armrest. I'm just extremely nervous and …" she trailed off upon noticing the way he was looking at her. Was he actually smiling – no, laughing at her? It appeared that way for his body shook slightly as he tried to hide it. This was certainly unexpected and Hermione found herself growing more agitated by the second. _Count on Malfoy to laugh at my expense. _

"Granger, if I knew you were going to provide this much entertainment, I would've invited you along."

What? Did he even realise what he just said? Apparently so because he didn't look revolted or appalled in the least to be sitting near her.

"Um, Malfoy, are you positive you're alright? You do know you're on a _muggle_ plane to _Beijing?_"

"Really? I hadn't noticed that. What would I have done if you weren't there to point it out? Granger, I'm not stupid and contrary to popular belief, I chose to do this. I just need …" he stopped then, unsure how to say what he was feeling and if he should even tell her. But most of all he was wondering why the hell he was telling _Granger_ of all people these truths he'd locked away even from himself.

"You just need to get away? Escape?" He nodded slightly when she spoke and thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad sitting next to Granger for the entire flight.

"I get it. I mean I just couldn't take it anymore so I started planning this trip. I didn't tell anyone. Just packed a suitcase once I got everything ready, wrote a note and left. I'm not sure if going to regret using an airplane but it isn't so bad right now."

He leaned over, "That's because you're not thinking about where you are. If, however, I were to tell you that we are now thousands of feet in the air being transported in a contraption that requires _no_ magic and could very well drop out of the sky at any second …" she gripped his hand and the armrest again, fighting back the nausea that threatened to overcome her. "Well you get my point." She glared at him; he smirked slightly and looked down at their clasped hands. She released it just as suddenly as the first time and hit him none too gently on his arm.

"Don't do that! I'm scared of flying!"

"I can't promise that one. You're just so entertaining to provoke."

"Well forgive me for not wanting you to make fun out of my embarrassment and obvious displeasure!"

"Well I apologize. Anyway, why did you tell _me_ all of that and not Potter and Weasley?" He said it with a grimace that he didn't try to mask.

"If you must know," she stared pointedly at him, willing him to contradict, "I wasn't planning on telling _anyone_ but you're here and Harry and Ron … I just don't think they'd understand my reasons right now. They've got their own losses to deal with and it's just better if I handle this alone. Why are _you_ …" she stopped, realizing that the question was far too personal to ask someone who'd been the bane of her existence for over six years.

"Why am I _what_, Granger? Spit it out. You know you want to ask." He was glaring at her, eyes filled with hatred for reasons he didn't even know and she suddenly felt the urge to slap it off his face. She met his eyes, matching his look but little did she know that he didn't in the least hate her. Well maybe not anymore.

"Fine!" she half shouted indignantly, "Why are you being so civil with me? Why are you _here? _ Why did you leave in the first place? _What_ made you do this?" She motioned wildly around the vessel they currently sat in, as if that would clarify her questions.

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "There you go. Always trying to fit pieces of a puzzle together. Always trying to fix _somebody. _Well newsflash Granger, I can't _be_ fixed." He said those last words so softly she almost thought she'd imagined them but then he was speaking again. "I'll answer your questions. Not because I trust you, but you're no one of consequence. Who are you going to run and tell anyway? I figure that you're not going back to London quite yet and it's not like I've got anything to lose." _Because I've already lost anything that was ever important to me. _"Don't take it the wrong way but it's not like you and I were ever friends." She stared at him, mouth slightly agape, unable to process this change of events. Who'd have thought that Hermione Granger would be the one to get answers to questions people longed to know from the pureblood prince himself, Draco Malfoy?

"First off, I'd like you to forget everything you've ever thought you knew about me. I don't see the need to be a rude bastard to you, ranting and raving about blood. You've proven time and again that blood matters in the least and everything _I_ ever did was to save face. Didn't you notice that I never said anything to you when I was on my own?" he asked rather imploringly and coming to think of it, she _had_ noticed that he was silent around her, nary an insult escaping his lips. But he was like that _all_ the time. How was she to know that he was changing?

"Secondly, you answered that question for yourself. I _needed_ to leave. I'm on a plane because the muggle world is the last place anyone would ever think to look for me. I can't go back. Not yet at least. Your last two questions go hand in hand, by the way. I left because everywhere I went I was reminded of the fact that I was the son of Lucius Malfoy. I saw the way everyone would look at me whenever I showed my face, judge me for what I hadn't done. I just couldn't take it anymore. Are you satisfied?"

_Hardly. _Hermione was actually more curious about the man sitting next to her than she would ever admit to anyone. Realizing that that was the most she would _ever_ get out of Malfoy at any one time was enough to quell the urge to ask more of him.

"So what's your story? Why has the know-it-all decided to leave?" The mood had lightened considerably after Draco's heavy confession and Hermione was beginning to feel comfortable with his presence. Hermione hadn't planned to tell Draco anything. No, she was content to just sit next to him and ignore him for the entire trip. If only she didn't have a fear of heights _or _grabbed his hand for that matter. Everything felt so out of place to her but where she was, next to Malfoy of all people, swapping the reasons for leaving, everything felt almost okay. And maybe, if they hadn't been enemies, Voldemort never existed and the war had never taken place, they could've been friends. She would've liked that. She had to tell him why. Hermione had no doubt that she would've answered any and all questions he had for her just then because she felt like he would understand her the best out of everyone she'd ever known. He would just get her.

"I already told you the main part but I left because I just felt alone and I was sick of living with all that death surrounding me and tired of being the one that _fixed_ everything. I was sick and tired of the world I was being forced to live in. I'm _nineteen_ years old for Merlin's sake. Not ninety! I shouldn't have to feel like today's the day I'm going to die or that my whole life has passed me by and I haven't even _lived_ it yet! I want to see the world, find true love, get married. _Do_ something, anything!"

Draco stared at Hermione, taken aback by the sudden passion in her voice and the fiery expression in her golden brown orbs. _Had they always been such a fascinating colour? _He hadn't felt a burst of life since the day his mother was killed but now, sitting next to Hermione, he wanted to feel the way she felt. He didn't actually know _what _he was going to do once he landed in foreign territory. All he did know was that they spoke a language that was a thousand leagues away from English, no one knew or had ever heard of Voldemort or his family name and there were millions of people to lose yourself in. Being in the muggle world was a small price to pay for disappearing but he couldn't complain.

He'd thought Granger wouldn't want ever want to see his face, much less speak to him but then she'd gone and grabbed his hand _and_ spoken to him. No one would've ever asked him questions like she did, prying into his private life, unafraid. But _she_ was Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor. It was in her blood. He sort of admired that kind of bravery, he'd just decided, and found it was rather endearing. He wanted to be around her. Actually, he _wanted _her. Strange as it seemed, Draco was beginning to welcome - because surely he couldn't like her just yet – the girl sitting next to him and he had no clue how he felt about that. Was he even sure he _could_ like her? It wasn't as though he'd had a lot of human interaction recently. Maybe he'd just felt marginally friendly because she wasn't already pointing a wand, ready to hex him where it hurt the most. Or it could be that she was the first friendly face he'd seen in a long while. He chose to believe the latter.

They were silent again, neither really wanting nor having to say anything. It was an almost comfortable silence were it not for the stark reminder of who they were at that present moment in time. Some hours passed between them much the same, Hermione interchanging between reading and crossword puzzles and Draco periodically staring out the window to complain about the length of the trip or the speed of the vessel. His remarks did nothing to quell Hermione's initial fears as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

He woke up – when had he fallen asleep? – to the sound of a female voice being emitted through a speaker, dampening the heavy silence around him. He was momentarily disoriented but the seat and the standard issue airline blanket and pillow roughly stuffed behind his head brought him back to the present, however grudgingly. He was aware of a slight pressure on his left shoulder as he worked out a kink in his neck. Lifting both hands to ease the cramping, he inadvertently woke Hermione who was _resting on his shoulder, _but he realised his mistake too late.

She let out a soft groan, feeling the effects of sleeping in a chair, and looked about groggily. Recognition seemed to dawn on her too little, too late as she felt steely eyes burning a hole into the side of her face. Falling asleep on Draco Malfoy's shoulder was just about the worst thing she could do apart from walking up to Voldemort and asking to be killed.

"I think we'll be landing shortly. An odd voice came out of nowhere." and as if proving Draco's point, the speaker-box voice came on again, telling the passengers to prepare for landing. Hermione felt her face burn with embarrassment though she hardly knew why. If he wasn't going to mention it then why should she?

Then she felt the mind-numbing pain of her brain being compressed against her skull as they made their descent into Beijing. She was certain bits of her brain would be leaking out her ears at the end of this horrid – but it really wasn't – trip. This time, her hand accurately made contact with the cool metal of the seat and she held on for dear life as the wheels of the aircraft bumpily touched ground and a whiny noise was caused by the sudden force of wheels on pitch. Draco found that he was slightly disappointed that Granger didn't reach for his hand like the other two times but couldn't dwell on the point for too long as the sudden pressure on brain and the ringing in his ears occupied his attention. He gritted his teeth, partly in frustration and pain, willing the feeling to _just leave for Merlin's sake! _

Minutes later there was silence and both passengers breathed a sigh of relief. A ping alerted them and soon bags were being retrieved and a queue was being formed to exit the claustrophobic confines of the plane.

He stood behind Granger as she walked forward to the exit and oddly enough, he caught a whiff of her lavender scented hair. He liked lavender. No! That was such a sissy thing to think. Lavender? How much more queer did he want to seem? Honestly. Still, the fragrance _was_ amazing. At least on her, he quickly amended. But then, they were being shuffled about and he'd lost sight of her in the ruckus.

Maybe it was never meant to be, he thought solemnly, making his way through customs, collecting his one bag all the while searching through the sea of foreigners for the one person he'd never thought he'd be actively looking for now. He couldn't find her. It was though she'd dropped off the face of the earth and he found it quite disconcerting that he was expending so many of his thoughts on her. She didn't mean anything to him. She couldn't have affected him in any way! So why was he acting like this now?

He'd be damned if he knew why.

He and Granger parted ways without goodbyes – did he actually expect one? - and he wouldn't ever know that across the sea of people, she was looking for him too.

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A/N: So should it be a one-shot or is it lacking? I won't know unless you REVIEW! So press that green button below and tell me what you think! Thanks so much for reading.


	2. Part 2

**A/N: Complementary piece to Lifeline. It's fairly shorter than the first (by half). Hope everyone had a fantabulous Valentine's Day, single or with that special one. Anyway, enjoy! **

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Part 2

It'd been seven days - a week - since he'd taken the first plunge and was now halfway around the world. He had to admit, it was the most freeing experience in his eighteen years of life. How pathetic, he mused. Eighteen years old and he'd only just begun to live his life – for _him_. It wasn't supposed to be like this. _Life_ wasn't supposed to be like this. But life wasn't fair. Never was, never would be. That was the plain and simple truth and the sooner he accepted it, the sooner he'd move on. But move on from what? Death? Being a cold- hearted prick? His parents? What? He was so fucked up and he knew it. What good would it do him – anyone - if he _tried _changing? It was no use. No one would believe it anyway. At least that's what he wanted to tell himself. Because, the thing was, good and evil had everything to do with how one perceived things. Perception was the underlying factor in the workings of morality and justice. 'Cause hey, anyone could litter, right? It was just the actual item being left behind that really mattered and the type of person doing the deed. If it were someone like Draco, people would shake their heads and say, "I knew it." but if it were someone else, say for instance, Hermione Granger, they'd come at her with pitchforks if so much as a piece of lint fell from her and she hadn't stopped it. So you see; perception was everything. Odd analogy, but in Draco's mind, it was the one that fit the best.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. He didn't need people to feel sorry for him, didn't need them to hate or ridicule him. He didn't _need_ people. Period. He was always better off on his own, being alone and brooding. Sulking, more like it. Besides, even if he did decide to turn a new leaf, wouldn't he get shot back down? Why would anyone associate with him after all that had taken place? He was a traitor to his own cause which made other people wary of him. The irony of it all was that Draco hadn't ever wanted to do the Dark Lord's bidding. He'd made it perfectly clear to his father by the end of fifth year. What had that gotten him besides a purple welt straight across his back that peeked over his shoulder, courtesy of some dark magic. It wasn't purple anymore though. Now it was a faint pink hue, still welted and if you looked closely, it resembled a snake, coiling around his body. Funny, he thought. He could've sworn that something was sucking the life out of him when it had happened. Well it didn't matter now. No use in crying over spilt milk. It's not like he _cried_. It was just a phrase.

He decided that if he really wanted to change then it would happen. He wasn't saying it would be easy – far from it actually – but – and this is what irked him – it was that he was _willing_ to change. Maybe because he believed that if someone – himself even – showed just the slightest shred of humanity, it would be enough for him. Ha! Who was he kidding? He was rambling, o.d'ing on the fresh air and liberties. It wasn't going to happen. Not today, not tomorrow, _not ever._ Everything from his past was ingrained too deeply and he wasn't sure if he _could_ accept the change. He was scared – terrified- of the new territory he would be plunged into.

That one admission of truth was almost enough to make him vow never to return home again. Well, it wasn't like he had one of those anymore, anyway. He was alone now. Totally and completely. Everyone had left him. Hell, his parents had both been killed, though separately and for completely different – depending on how you looked at it – reasons. He had nothing left anymore, would never amount to anything. He _was_ nothing. What would his father say to that? Honestly, he didn't care at the moment. He didn't want to be associated with his mirror image any longer.

The constant put – downs and comparisons were the only things that served as memories of his father. Cold and emotionless, the demeanour of a slab of marble, Draco shuddered thinking that not long ago his life was headed down that same path. _I will not become my father. He has no place in my life. _He took a deep breath, the faint smell of peonies and evergreen trees invading his senses, trying to calm his frazzled nerves. He came here to forget, to just exist. He shouldn't have to think about this. He wouldn't.

He scanned the landscape of Jingshan Park, a sharp gust of frosty wind making him draw his black coat closer to his frame. The large influx of people this early in the morning surprised him, but nonetheless, they pushed and shoved at the entrance. Eager to get a glimpse of these famed gardens. They jostled him, and he'd no choice but to be swept along with the throng of people. Following the crowd, he edged inwards and tried to find a secluded area. He stopped, not looking for anything, but he thought he should at least be able to appreciate where he was. He looked across the wide expanse of lush greenery seeing people getting their portraits drawn, the flash of cameras blinding him momentarily.

He'd been stunned by several of the white lights and it reminded him of the battle scene he'd witnessed not long ago. Dark magic and counter-spells being shouted from every corner and he was caught in the middle of it all. His breathing sped up and he found the once open space was now too constricted. His mind was taking him back to those hidden memories, ones he tried so hard to suppress and keep within himself. Funny how all it took was a muggle device to bring him back to one of the worst moments of his existence. If it was funny, then why wasn't anyone laughing after everything? He pushed passed the tourists roughly, elbowing them as he eyed a particularly empty spot. In all his haste, he'd run straight into an unsuspecting person.

"Hey, watch it! Don't you -" but the person had already trailed off and was now openly gaping at him. "Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

Never in his life had he been so, well, _happy_ to see Hermione Granger. It _was_ Granger right? He almost couldn't recognize her. No longer did she sport that insanely bushy, overgrown hair; now it was short and, and _tame_. Draco wasn't sure what to make of this change but he grabbed her by the elbow and led her to a more secluded area. "Wait, what are you doing?" she questioned sternly.

There really was no point and he felt like he could tell her anything now. "I get attacks sometimes. Memories resurface and it's like I'm there again. I just needed to be alone and then I saw you and it took my mind off things for a bit." She looked at him with understanding. Of course she would, he mused. _She was there idiot. It probably happens to her too. _"I'm sorry if I scared you or anything." He looked around, unsure of how to proceed and she made it easy for him by asking him to sight-see with her. He couldn't say no.

"I thought about you." She said offhandedly as they wound their way through a bevy of old women. "Well, after I left you at the airport. I couldn't find you again and I hoped you were alright." She amended quickly. "The proof is right here anyway." He laughed then and she was momentarily stunned by the oddness of the situation. Here they were, two former – or were they still – enemies, having an almost amiable conversation. Odd.

"Malfoy, when do you plan on going back?"

"Honestly, I don't think I want to. Why?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to do some more sight-seeing for the week, with me. I'm not sure I have the navigational skills to get to everything safely." They walked in silence for a few minutes, Draco contemplating her offer, Hermione thinking about his statement. "I felt that way too, when I got here. But I don't think I can stay away. I've got too many memories tying me to that place. You know? I still feel connected."

"I know you do Granger, but don't you just wish you could? I've got so many obligations and demands waiting for me when I get back. I just don't think I can do it alone." Was this supposed to be him asking for help? She wasn't sure but she offered it either way, because that was who she was.

"I'm always here if you need someone. I'll be there." And in that moment, Draco believed her. She was all he had grounding him to reality. She was his lifeline. Maybe he could be hers too.

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_A/N: Hopefully, this part doesn't make the initial piece lose any meanings and whatnot. I'd already written some of this when I posted the first part and I figured that I should just add this too. I don't think it has what it takes to be a full story. Anyway, you got this far so why don't you review? I'd appreciate it a lot. Thanks for reading! _


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